


Perfect Peace

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Gen, Pre-Slash, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for drabblewriter’s prompt on comment_fic -  <a href="http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/293099.html?thread=54532843#t54532843">Supernatural, any/any, snowfall</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Peace

Sam was fastidiously packing up the last of things into his duffel-bag when Dean finally emerged from the bathroom, toothbrush still dangling from one corner of the elder Winchester’s mouth.

“Hey,” Sam said, barely raising his eyes to glance at his brother. “Cas is outside.”

“Outside?” Dean asked, words a little slurred around his mouthful of toothpaste and brush. “What the hell’s he doing out there?”

Sam shrugged, corners of his mouth following the quick motions of his bulky shoulders as he did so.

“I dunno. Why don’t you go on out and ask him? He’s your angel,” Sam replied, as he returned his gaze to his bag.

Dean grunted, nodded, and returned to the bathroom momentarily, to finish brushing his teeth. Finally, he emerged for the last time, walking past Sam to join Castiel outside. Much to Dean’s detriment, he found that the day was bitterly cold and snow was falling from the sky in gentle, quiet drifts. He hadn’t bothered to check the state of the weather before he left the warmth of the motel room, and he began to curse the lack of a coat.

Castiel didn’t seem hampered by the cold or the snow; in fact, he seemed barely to notice it. The angel was standing much the same as he always stood, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his tan coat, head tilted slightly upwards to catch every last movement of white flakes leaking from the clouds. The flakes caught in the permanent lick of hair that tufted out at odd angles just above his forehead, catching in his eyelashes and making them glisten. Dean stared at Castiel, at the absolute quietude and peace that surrounded the angel’s very being. It was as if Castiel was contented with his lot, ruminating on the world in ways that Dean could only guess at.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, without turning, without even giving prior indication that he’d known Dean was even there.

Dean sighed, blowing hot air in moist gusts of breath from between his lips at that. Of course Castiel had known he was there; his sphere of consciousness was so far advanced than Dean‘s own, it made Dean’s not inconsiderable hunter’s instincts look like a caveman’s by comparison.

“Hey, Cas,” he said, finally stepping forward to stand beside the angel. “What are you doing out here? Don’t you think it wise to actually, you know, stand somewhere warm and watch the snow falling?”

Castiel cast a puzzled glance Dean’s way as though the angel thought the proposition ridiculous. Then again, Dean thought, Castiel always looked at him that way.

“Why?” Castiel asked, bluntly. “I like to stand in the snow and watch it fall. It’s very soothing. You humans don’t realize just how beautiful your weather systems are.”

“No? Well, it’s beautiful when viewed from the inside, Cas,” Dean persisted. “It’s warm and you won’t get pneumonia, for a start.”

“I wouldn’t,” Castiel stated, again in that tone of voice that suggested he thought Dean was being ridiculous.

“Right. Of course. You’re an angel. You don’t get sick,” Dean said, blandly. “Well, I hate to break it to you, dude, but we humans get sick, very easily. I want to go back in.”

Castiel stared; his gaze told Dean that Castiel wasn’t about to stop him from going back in if he so wanted to. Dean sighed, gusts of warm breath fogging his vision momentarily before he finally relented.

“Fine. I’ll get my coat,” he said, before turning to leave.

Castiel turned his face back to the sky once more, and waited, smiling when he felt the warm presence of a newly coat-covered Dean stop beside him. Dean didn’t speak and neither did Castiel. Instead they stood in peaceful quietude, watching the flakes glitter on their way down to the ground, settling against the asphalt and turning the world into a glittering cavalcade of diamonds that scattered over everything.

Dean felt himself relaxing by degrees, surprised that he could find just standing still so therapeutic, perfect peace settling through him for the first time in years. Beside him, Castiel nodded silently to himself, catching Dean’s shift in mood without the other man having to say anything. Dean caught the nod and still remained silent, smiling slightly to himself as he did so.

A few minutes later and Sam stood by the motel room window, watching as the snow fell upon the heads of angel and hunter, two figures standing silently side by side in the snow, convening without the need for words. Sam smiled to himself, thinking that the two formed an unconscious scene for a Christmas postcard; two friends trapped in time forever, dusted liberally with glittering flakes of snow. He turned and left them to their own devices, quietly packing away Dean’s scattered things, whistling softly to himself as he did so.


End file.
